


The Kraken

by Asreoniplier (AsreonInfusion)



Series: The Siren [2]
Category: Video Blogging RPF, Who Killed Markiplier? (Web Series), markiplier - Fandom
Genre: AFAB reader - Freeform, Alternate Universe, Breeding, F/M, Mer AU, Oviposition, Tentacle Sex, Tentacles, mild manipulation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-16
Updated: 2019-06-16
Packaged: 2020-05-13 00:10:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19239883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AsreonInfusion/pseuds/Asreoniplier
Summary: Sequel/non-plot side story to The Siren. This is basically the fic that takes all the worldbuilding of the original and uses it purely for smutty purposes. After all, how could I write mer!Dark with tentacles and not have some tentacle porn...





	The Kraken

**Author's Note:**

> **WARNINGS:** Tentacle porn, breeding, oviposition; in this case, oviposition with the specific and effective intent of having the reader actually incubate them (as opposed to my other oviposition stuff, where it’s just implied they’ll push the eggs out after sexy times are finished and nothing will come of it). 
> 
> It is discussed in post-coital conversation what will happen with the eggs, but there’s no time skip/none of it is actually shown. But the eggs would be carried/incubated for a few weeks, and then the resultant hatchlings would be just like. Tiny cute lil demon octopi kinda things, lmao. Smol squish babs. (Easy to push out, lol.)
> 
> In the original story, the reader was gender-neutral, but they're afab in this one because of detailed oviposition reasons. *cough*

There’s been something different in the way Dark looks at you for a while.

It’s difficult to work it out, exactly. He always stares at you with those cold, black eyes of his, something hungry and predatory in his gaze. So why does this feel different?

If anything, he’s more gentle with you. When he drags you against him and slides his tentacles between your thighs, fills you up and fucks you, there’s something a little slower and more exploratory about it. Funny. You’ve been with him for years. There isn’t a single part of your body he doesn’t know and hasn’t claimed. Yet he runs his webbed hands over your hips, across your stomach, as if only taking you in for the first time.

Outside of sex, he’s distant; not out of coldness to you, but in a way that makes you feel he has something on his mind.

You swim up to him in those moments and place a hand on his shoulder, and he looks at you with a heat and want you can’t describe.

“Tell me what you’re thinking?” you ask him softly. He never replies. But he holds you, his tentacles curling around you like the cold deep-ocean currents, and leans in to taste you. The intensity of it makes you shiver.

He’s impatient, but whatever it is he’s waiting for, whatever it is he’s planning as he inspects you with that calculating gaze, you’re not privy to.

It goes on for about a week. Maybe two.

Until one day you’re frustrated. You swam far that day – not the furthest from Dark you’ve been, but enough it’s been almost dawn ‘til dusk that you’ve been away. Odd attitude aside, he’s been affectionate recently. He’s used your body every day, and you have to admit, his touch is addictive.

Maybe that’s why you’re craving it so badly.

It seems so dumb. One single day without sex and you’re feeling needy for him. Probably just one of those stupid horny days. It’s irritating, though; your own touch feels so pathetically unsatisfying compared to the bliss Dark can wring out of you.

By the time you swim back down to the depths where Dark dwells, you’re tired but no less eager for him. He’s been all over you recently, so hopefully tonight will be no exception.

There’s a whole cavernous network amongst the rocks and volcanic vents that serve as your home, and one particularly spacious opening, lit by the soft glow of lava and complexly decorated by heat-seeking corals, that serves as a bedroom. Dark stirs as you enter, tentacles uncurling like living shadows around him as he rises up.

He gives you that look again, the same one you’ve become accustomed to. Hungry, wanting. The slit-like gills on the sides of his throat flare.

Dark is on you in an instant, swimming to your side with such speed that it makes you squeak in alarm. He buries his face against the crook of your neck, then bites down.

“Dark!” you gasp, hands flying up to tightly grip his shoulders. That— _hurts_ , so suddenly, but then he laps up the blood he’s drawn from the shallow bite, and you melt a little beneath him.

“Finally ready,” he purrs, licking your blood from his sharp teeth, apparently pleased with whatever he tastes in it.

You did want this. You came seeking him out with taking care of your own need in mind, you’re not going to deny that. But this all seems very sudden, and you have no idea what he’s talking about. “Ready for what?”

His tentacles slide around you, legs, hips, shoulders, and he pulls you across the room and lays you down on his bed-nest of seaweed and soft corals.

You normally don’t get the honour of a bed to get fucked in. It’s unnecessary, really, when staying upright in the water offers so much more manoeuvrability, and Dark is strong enough to keep you in whatever position he pleases.

Dark growls, low and possessive, as he kisses firmly over the mark he’s left on your throat, then across your collarbones. And that  _sound_ —you love it when his control slips, the moments that the feral, eldritch side of him shows through a little more, and you were already wanting him anyway. The sound is enough to make heat pulse through you.

His hands rubs between your legs, fingers grazing over your core, making you bite your lip and your hips buck. He seems immensely pleased to find you’re wet already.

Dark lifts his fingers to his mouth and curls his tongue around them, tasting your slick. “Your heat is starting.”

“Wh-what?” You’re—alright, you’re not human. You haven’t been that for a long time. You’re something corrupt, a pretty little siren made to serve Dark.

But you’re certain you don’t get heats.

“I’ve been waiting,” he murmurs. “Filling you every night with the right neurochemicals. Hoping…” He bites you again, on your shoulder this time, and you whine.

It’s hard to concentrate. Maybe he’s right. He turns you on, oh, you know all about that, but tonight is feels so much faster and more intense. He has you aching for him already.

Although you’ve been aching half the day anyway.

“ _Why?_ ” you struggle to ask.

“Didn’t know if it would work. But,” his eyes lower, and his hands grip your hips as the tentacles slide over your lower stomach. “I wanted it to be my favourite pet who would bear my children,” Dark purrs.

His words knock the wind from you, and you can only stare up at him, face rapidly reddening. He wants you to— _what?!_  Can he even—how does he—

“Dark,” you groan.

“I have been  _waiting_ ,” he says, that feral note sneaking back into his voice. His words are almost more of a hiss, “to fill you up until you’re heavy with my eggs.”

That shouldn’t sound hot. That shouldn’t sound remotely hot, but whatever he’s done to you – the neurochemicals, the heat, the corruption he’s poured into you for so long, or maybe just your own perversion – makes it sound far too appealing.

“Okay,” you gasp. His tentacles are curled around you and sliding over you so possessively, and when he kisses you it’s intense enough to take your breath away. He has you panting and whining for him so quickly, all your neediness returning a hundred-fold.

You don’t care. You don’t know exactly what all of that will entail, or what he means by eggs, but you don’t care. You belong to Dark, you exist to serve him, and he has every right to use your body how he pleases. Some part of you is thrilled that he’d choose you. Like it’s an honour. He’s a goddamn eldritch ocean god, and yet considers  _you_ worthy enough for something that important.

You return his kiss passionately, letting yourself succumb to the heat flooding through your veins.

Dark draws back, a wide smirk showing off his unnaturally sharp teeth, and his kiss is replaced by a tentacle probing at your lips. You moan as he fills your mouth, your eyes locked with his. Captivated, almost hypnotised. Heat rises to your face, staining your cheeks red with the shame of your position, your arousal, and the struggle of having something so large fucking your throat.

It’s a good thing you haven’t needed to breathe in the traditional sense since the day Dark dragged you down into the ocean with him. Makes this easier, at least.

It’s still an uncomfortable stretch on your jaw though, saliva drooling out from the corners of your lips, and Dark pins you down and keeps fucking your face until he shudders. His low, guttural growl makes your hairs stand on end, and you moan as thick, sticky liquid fills your throat and mouth.

“Swallow,” Dark demands.

You splutter and choke a little, but you do as he commands.

“Please,” you beg hoarsely. It’s worse, it’s only made it so much worse. Being used like that. You were already turned on, but now it  _hurts_  with how badly you need it. You’re going to overheat, going to burn up without him. The ache between your legs is unbearable.

Maybe there was something in his cum again; more neurochemicals, some kind of aphrodisiac,  _something_. Because, oh, god, you can’t be feeling this desperate already.

You arch and writhe beneath him, begging with your body as well, and Dark growls and tightens his grip on you – fingers and tentacles – until you gasp. He holds you still and doesn’t let you move.

“Hush, pet,” he murmurs lowly, that deep, reverberating voice of his right by your ear. “I will satisfy you to the core. I will take  _very_  good care of you. Do you trust me?”

“Yes!”

The pressure gradually lessens, the powerful muscle of Dark’s tentacles sliding against your body as they loosen and unwind into a slightly more comfortable position. As much as you need it, you don’t squirm against him this time.

Dark is staring down at you again, that feral, possessive lust in his eyes. Fuck. You can’t stand having him look at you like that; it’s making your chest tighten far too much. So you close your eyes and let your head fall back, lips parted helplessly.

One of his tentacles, a thick, blunt-headed thing, rubs over your core. You clutch at his arms. “Dark, please,” you beg again, whimpering.

“That’s it, dear,” he soothes you. You cry out as it finally starts sinking into you – fuck, oh, _fuck_ , you needed is so badly and it feels so good that your mind shorts out completely. The first inch or two is slow, then Dark groans and bares his teeth. He can’t hold back and you don’t want him too.

He slams the tentacle in as deep as you can take it, and you scream. Just that much—with the heat, how needy you are—his touch and the way he uses you—

The penetration alone is enough to make you cum.

You tremble, clenching down around him as the pleasure floods through you. You’re gasping his name, clawing at his back. It doesn’t get any better. One orgasm does nothing to lessen the heat; if anything, it makes it  _worse_.

“More, please, oh, god,  _Dark_ ,” you plead. “I need it, I need—”

He claims your mouth again to silence you, teeth grazing against your lips, and then his tentacle pounds into you for real.

Whatever of your mind you had left is rapidly swept away beneath the onslaught of sensation. That thick tentacle fucks into you and strokes you inside in the most intensely pleasurable way, and the tip of another curls around and rubs against your clit, and it’s overwhelming. Dark is overwhelming.

He holds you down and fucks you like he owns you – he  _does_  – and all you can do is rock your hips to meet each thrust, murmuring senseless, desperate nothings. Writhing and mewling beneath him, while he—fuck.

He’s like an angry god, slipping towards his more eldritch form as his own pleasure overtakes him and his control weakens. He makes the world bend and warp around him, the depths of his eyes glowing like demon-fire, claws on his webbed hands lengthening and digging into your hips. His tentacles – the ones not preoccupied in binding you and toying with you – roil around him like a cloud of liquid shadow.

He’s a little bit terrifying, and it’s hot as fucking hell.

You cum again. Several times, maybe. You can’t keep track. He has you so utterly overstimulated, so caught up in the heat and the pleasure and  _it won’t stop_.

You’re begging for him, the tears leaking from your eyes washed away immediately by the ocean around you. It’s so good, but your orgasms do nothing. You can’t get any kind of completion, and it’s driving you out of your goddamn mind.

Dark has cum as well, buried deep inside your aching cunt, filling you up with thick, sticky ropes of the tentacle’s secretions. It doesn’t even slow him down. He bends you nearly in half and just keeps fucking you hard.

He’s not going to let you go until he gets what he wants. You don’t think you’ll be satisfied either, not until you’re so full of him you can’t take any more.

“Dark!” you sob. “Oh, god _,_ do it. Fill me up,  _breed me_.”

Dark slows for a moment, even though it requires visible effort. He brushes his knuckles gently against your cheek, eyes raking over your flushed and abused body. The desperate, trembling wreck he’s made of you.

“If you are ready…”

He’s moving more carefully now, and you almost whine with frustration. But he’s—

Fuck.

He’s so deep. He already had you all stretched out and so full of him, but now the tentacle is probing at your cervix. It should be awful. It shouldn’t feel  _good_. But whatever he’s done to you, whatever he’s pumped you full of, it makes it easier. Maybe this is why he spent so long fucking you senseless. Because the tip of his tentacle folds thin and pushes inhumanly deep and you jerk and cry out, but… not in a bad way.

Your head is spinning; it’s not quite pleasant, but you’re so high on his aphrodisiac, so wracked with pleasure, that you barely even notice the discomfort.

Just the thought of him being that deep, of how he would be able to ruin you completely, has you shuddering helplessly as wave after wave of lust sears through your veins.

Apparently satisfied, Dark withdraws. Only momentarily, and there’s another tentacle shoving inside you. This one is different. Thicker. Specialised.

It ruts into you; for Dark’s pleasure, more than your own. He’s getting close again, all groans and growls and those low, rough noises that make your stomach flip. Maybe even more so than usual, knowing what’s coming.

You cling to his shoulders and press kisses against his face, near sobbing. “Please, please,” you gasp.

“ _Mine_ ,” Dark snarls. The tentacle slams in deep, then wriggles even deeper, and you moan.

You can feel them. The eggs. That’s what he said, right? Your mind is too blank, wiped of all thoughts. But you can  _feel_  it, the pulse of the tentacle as it spills hot, thick fertile seed into your womb and then—eggs. Dark’s eggs. Pumping into you.

“Oh, god,” you groan shakily.

Dark is lost in it, an expression of unguarded bliss on his face as he rocks against you and fills you up. Fills you up and up, and  _fuck_.

They don’t feel too big – no larger than a golf ball, and soft enough to squeeze into you without it being painful – but there’s. A lot. Oh, god. You’re panting, stomach starting to plump out with the sheer amount he has to give, and that’s so fucking depraved. You don’t know if you should be horrified or even more turned on.

The aphrodisiac in your system knows, and your body reacts to being bred with pure lust. You barely even need the tentacle rubbing against your clit; you cum again, harder than you can remember in your life.

Hard enough to black out momentarily, finally succumbing to the overstimulation and intensity of it all.

There’s no tentacle inside you when you regain you senses, still trembling and panting and a little too sensitive in the aftermath. But satisfied. Finally satisfied, and even though your brain still feels like it’s melted into a useless puddle of goo, at least the maddening heat in your body has finally abated somewhat.

Now you just feel used and sore and utterly boneless with pleasure. Glowing.

Dark is curled at your side, tentacles draped over and curled around your legs. More possessive than ever now; more affectionate, too.

He cups your jaw and covers your face in tender kisses; you’re too exhausted to respond, but you giggle quietly and smile at the gesture. His other hand strokes over your lower stomach, swollen and heavy with his eggs.

You shift, sticky and so, so full.

Shit. About that. “Dark,” you murmur.

“Mine,” Dark repeats, low and fierce. It’s not just a claim on you, but a claim on the… things inside you.

“Dark,” you try again, concern starting to leech into your tone. “What exactly am I supposed to do now?”

He stares at you with those dark eyes, deep and cold and unfathomable. Sometimes you forget just how far he really is from human. “You will bear my children. Like a good pet.”

“How… how long will it take?”

“They will incubate for a few weeks.”

A few weeks. Okay. Now that you’re not so heady and high and caught up in the moment, it’s hitting just how fucked up this is, but—a few weeks. You can live with that. If it’s for Dark.

If it’s for Dark, you’ll do anything.

The reminder of that settles your nerves somewhat. So what if it’s weird? What isn’t weird about being with Dark.

You love him. You’ll do anything for him.

You’re full of his eggs, bred and blissed out.

“What are they? Or—what will they be? The eggs.”

“Kraken.”

You stare at Dark. “ _Kraken?”_

“Those that survive will grow to be formidable, powerful creatures, protectors of my realm and destroyers of any who may oppose us.”

“Um.”

Those that survive. That part sinks in slowly, and there’s a pang of—something you don’t have a name for in your chest. Of course, that makes sense. If it’s anything like the reproduction of an octopus – it’s not, really, but it’s the closest likely thing given the tentacles and the eggs – it’s to be expected that not all or even many of them would live to maturity.

You don’t feel  _bad_  about that idea. It’s not like you’re attached to the weird fucking egg-creatures Dark’s laid inside you.

It’s not like you’re wondering if you could keep watch over them and protect them until they grew large enough to reliably survive alone.

Besides. You have more pressing problems. “What exactly is a baby kraken going to look like?”

Dark chuckles coldly. “Does it concern you?”

“Uh, yeah. A little. Those things are inside me and I’m… a little bit torn between being freaked out and being into it, which is also fucked up on a whole ‘nother level but—”

Dark kisses you to quiet your babbling. “Do not be afraid,” he says. You know that tone. It’s the one that echoes in your head, the one you can’t ever remember how to resist or even think of disobeying. With a shuddering sigh, you relax into Dark’s embrace.

He strokes his fingers through your hair and massages your scalp. “They will be black as the ocean at night. Fierce, intelligent, powerful creatures. But, to address your concerns, they will be more or less indistinguishable from young octopi when newly born.”

You snort quietly. “Splendid,” you mutter. “Gonna have your demon octopus babies.”

Dark’s hand slides from your hair, down the side of your face to your jaw. He grips you hard enough to hurt, and you hiss. “And you should consider it an  _honour_.”

“…Yes, sir.”

You love him. You’ll do anything for him.

When Dark wraps himself around you, it’s hard to remember what you were fussing about. He holds you in his arms, while his tentacles drift soothingly over your skin. Caressing your legs, caressing the new curve to your stomach.

Dark kisses the back of your neck, and you feel his teeth graze against you. The pleased hum he makes sounds thoroughly satisfied with how the night has gone. “My perfect little pet,” he purrs. “All full of my eggs and bred for me.”

His words make you shiver and flush. “Dark…”

He smiles, distant and inhuman, but not entirely without affection. His eyelids lower. “I’ll take very good care of you,” he promises.

You believe him.


End file.
